Where I'M From Poem by Zoe Guillory

I am from paintbrushes,
spilled out chaotically on the kitchen table
like dry leaves lying in the coulee.
I am from gathered dust
on the back of the keyboard
that was noticed,
but was never disturbed.
I am from the love-bug tree
hiding at the corner with fresh flowers
and the stout lemon tree
who took us through year after year
of fresh lemonade,
and later, cinnolade.
I am from good times, and bad times.
I am from towering bookshelves,
from drawn-out Sunday afternoons.
I am from arrogance and ignorance,
and the chaos of a family gathering.
I am from mosquito bites
that swole up and turned red.
I am from cat scratches and bite marks,
patched up nicely with orange and white fur.
I am from never blowing out
my own bright birthday candles,
or starring in my own photographs.
I am from dreams of being a veterinarian,
or a teacher, or a spy.
I am from piano lessons on Friday afternoons
and the smell of chlorine
on the fourth of July.
I am from late Mardi Gras parades
and sorting our dirty treasures.
I am from Lafayette, Louisiana.